


the ticking clock

by jenhyung



Series: clichéd: magic edition [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 19:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12539684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Taeil knows there's no point in chasing after the unattainable. Especially when it takes the form of Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, Seo Youngho. — Taeil / Youngho (Harry Potter!AU)





	the ticking clock

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: 15k+ of 'i tried to hit all genres in three days' please excuse the horrible speed, plot and writing... i got too excited please read [this](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com/post/166892360127/note-for-the-ticking-clock-bad-bad-bad-bad) for more clarifications about this universe... i've stared at this for 48 hours straight now, i can't tell if its decent or not anymore... (kissing, jerking each other off) i am so sorry
> 
>  **ages are shifted up** : 7th years (21) / 6th years (20) and so on!
> 
>  **edit** : i wrote this while thinking youngho was a 94-liner, so aged up character, technically...

“Glory, glory, Gryffindor!”

It’s a loud parade of red and gold and sweat and broomsticks, chanting and hollering as the Gryffindor Quidditch team saunters into the Great Hall.

Taeil looks up from his Alchemy notes laid out before him, looking on as the winners of this weekend’s match flaunt their victory. Quidditch was a grand affair that he’s never taken an interest in, not at all understanding the excitement surrounding the magical sport.

Yet he watches on, following their display of victory, briefly preoccupied by the loud chatter filling up the previously peaceful hall. He recognizes several of them easily; it’s hard not to know the members of the popular team when the bulk of them are constantly mentioned in eager gossips along the halls.

Jung Jaehyun, fourth year chaser, with chestnut brown hair and rumored dimples that are deep enough to hold several Sickles (Taeil can vouch for that, having once saw Kim Mingyu, another fourth year chaser, pile them up to six Sickles over breakfast, yelling in disappointment when they fell over). Lee Minhyung, second year seeker, the youngest Taeil’s ever heard to play on the team during his time at school. A boy with blonde hair, sticking out in all angles, thoroughly messed up from all the whizzing around in the air, searching for the Golden Snitch. He’s seated comfortably on the shoulders of the keeper, captain, _and_ Gryffindor’s Headboy, none other than seventh year – Seo Youngho.

Taeil, too a seventh year, knows Youngho fairly better than the rest. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors have had several classes together, and it’s hard not to notice the tall boy and his band of other equally tall, equally rambunctious friends. He knew that Youngho excelled in Divination, Transfiguration, and Charms, a subject Taeil never manages to score an Outstanding in.

It’s been rumored that Youngho was so advanced in Charms, that he was one of a handful that could produce a Patronus.

Both Youngho and Taeil were on the school’s Student Support Scheme, a newly rolled out buddy system to help younger students with classes they were struggling in, similar to a tutoring service, but free and definitely more rewarding. It’s allowed them to have several conversations, nothing too personal, and usually on the students they’re assigned to.

Youngho is cool and well-liked, and Taeil is nothing much. He did fantastic in Potions, and maybe above average in Herbology, but that was pretty all he had to offer. His best friend, sixth year Lee Taeyong, is always saying that he does a pretty good rendition of Adele’s trilogy of albums after he’s got a good amount of Firewhiskey in him. That wasn’t anything worth to put forth though.

Youngho is out of Taeil’s league, completely in a different realm, and the black-haired boy might as well be living in an entirely different time.

It doesn’t stop Taeil’s heart from skipping a beat when Youngho turns to flash him a brilliant smile, hand off Minhyung’s leg to give him a tiny wave. Taeil sends him a tight smile in return, and a curt nod of acknowledgement, arms too frozen to move.

Alright, maybe Taeil _does_ know Youngho a little better than the rest.

“You’re doing it again,” Taeyong drawls from beside him, not even looking up from his own notes. Due to the lack of demand in Professor Kim’s Alchemy class, they allowed the intelligent boy to join the seventh years, even though Taeyong was a year younger. It wasn’t anything out the ordinary; Taeyong was smart enough to skip years in both Potions and Charms too.

“What?” Taeil knew exactly what.

“Staring at Seo Youngho as if he’s going to disappear any second,” Taeyong answers simply, picking up another cookie from the platter between them. Chocolate chip and marshmallow cookies from the kitchen, terribly sweet, just the way Taeyong likes them. “Your eyes look like they’re about to fall out of your head.”

“Thanks,” Taeil replies peevishly, looking back down at his notes, but they don’t seem to make sense anymore.

“You should talk to him,” Taeyong takes a bite of his cookie, swiping at the fallen the crumbs. They were written neatly in Taeyong’s cursive writing, and Charmed to be laminated so that it wouldn’t get ruined whenever he ate over them. “And not during your little study dates with twenty other first years.”

“They’re not _dates_ ,” Taeil reaches for a cookie, but Taeyong pats his hand away, never one to share food that were specially prepared as study fuel. “And we don’t _each_ teach twenty students, I only have one first year on my list right now.”

“Still, you should talk to him.”

Taeil lays his quill down, careful not to smudge it against his painstakingly written notes. Taeyong tried to teach him how to get that clear plastic over his own notes, but the spell seems to always backfire on Taeil, sometimes even causing the entire roll of parchment to Transfigure into a bottle of white glue.

“What for?”

Taeyong shrugs, “I don’t know. Ask him out? Something, _anything,_ to get you off this insane hook he has you on.”

“I’m not on his hook,” Taeil scans the Gryffindor table on the other side of the room quickly, and he spots Youngho raising a goblet of pumpkin juice, cheering at their triumphant win once again. His eyes are back on his notes in the next second, but Taeyong catches it easily.

“Please,” he scoffs, pushing the last bit of cookie between his lips, only looking up when he’s done reading the final, neatly written sentence. He shakes his head, dark hair flopping around, “He’s Captain Hook, and you’re that crocodile that ate the ticking clock.”

Taeil hardly ever fails to understand Taeyong’s Muggle references on account of having read many books and taking Muggle Studies since his third year, but this one flies right over his head, “What?”

Taeyong picks up another cookie with his thin fingers, “It means you’re after his ass, Taeil.”

 

x

 

“No, no, no,” Taeil suppresses a frustrated groan. “That’s not what it means.”

“You’re telling me,” first year Slytherin and Taeil’s assigned student, Lee Donghyuck, has his head resting in his hand, expression contorted into one of complete dubiety. “That Wolfsbane is harmful to Werewolves? _Wolfs_ bane?”

“Yes,” Taeil points at the open textbook laid out on the desk in front of them. “It’s extremely poisonous, and it can kill a werewolf with just a –”

“Wait,” Donghyuck juts out his lower lip. “You’re saying that Wolfsbane, might just be the _bane_ of a Werewolf’s existence?”

Youngho from the next table lets out a burst of laughter, hand clamping over his mouth when Taeil turns to glare at him. He shrinks, but not before winking at Taeil, and turning back to his own first year Ravenclaw, Lee Jeno, who has been struggling with the concept of apparition over the past three weeks (“Yeah, but _how_?”; “We’re wizards, you know that right?”).

Donghyuck, on the other hand, was way too smart to be enrolled in the Student Support Scheme, but Taeil has yet to figure out what’s got the sixteen-year-old so pressed on coming to meet with him every other day after classes.

“Alright,” drawls Professor Jung, this year’s Head of Potions. He addresses the classroom of several seventh years and their respective first years, “It’s six in the evening on a Tuesday, and I’ve had enough of reading my own textbook,” he looks sorrowfully at the massive book on his desk. “Let’s meet again next week, and let’s try _not_ to singe any more of Sir Leonardo DiCatprio’s fur,” he angles a sharp glare at Slytherin’s seventh year and Quidditch Captain, Oh Sehun, and his traumatized first year, Gryffindor’s Na Jaemin, “Yes, I’m looking at you, Mr. Oh.”

Youngho stifles another laugh that’s undoubtedly directed towards Sehun, who flips him off gracefully in response. Taeil knew of them to be the best of friends; both Quidditch captains, _and_ Headboys of their respective houses. It really couldn’t get any better than that.

They were practically the idolized by the rest of the student body, yet again another reminder of how different their (Taeil and Youngho) worlds are.

Professor Jung dismisses them promptly, but twirls on his toes when Taeil bids goodbye to Donghyuck, who’s already flying out the door, “Mr. Moon, may I see you a moment please?”

Youngho looks up from his conversation with Sehun, but Taeil pays him no attention, gathering his textbook and making his way to the front of the class. The rest of the first and seventh years file out quietly, but Taeil spots Youngho lingering around out of the corner of his eye.

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Moon,” Professor Jung laces his long fingers together, a warm smile on his face. Taeil’s never said this out loud, but he’s got a good impression that he was Professor Jung’s favorite seventh year.

If there’s anything Moon Taeil is confident at, it’s Potions. Maybe it’s thanks to his love for baking, what with all the measuring and mixing, but it’s undeniable that the Hufflepuff is the best in his cohort, having never scored anything under an Outstanding. (Taeyong doesn’t count because he’s still technically a sixth year, even if he _is_ taking several subjects with the seventh years.)

“How would you like to be excused from one of the five essays due for midterms?”

Taeil eyes widens. Five essays (six foot _each_ , which meant six pages of writing in the Muggle world) were mandatory for seventh years in Potions, and it was a well-known nightmare, taking into account Professor Jung’s ridiculously stringent grading scheme. It was already one of Taeil’s major sources of stress, despite it being only a quarter into the first term.

“I would definitely like that,” Taeil is eager, the thought of having to only write one less laborious essay seems like a dream come true.

“That’s great!” Professor Jung snaps his fingers, and a clipboard is brandished. “All you have to do is take inventory for the Potions’ dungeon. Easy work!”

Taeil takes the clipboard hanging in mid-air, quickly skimming through the list of equipment and ingredients, some of which Taeil’s never even _read_ about. The Potions dungeon as vials after vials and bottles after bottles lining the classroom, not to mention the giant closet filled with dried goods and magic powders behind the teacher’s desk. It’s definitely going to be a lot of work, but Taeil’s convinced it can’t be any harder than writing six feet worth on the workings of Polyjuice Potion.

“You will be awarded an Outstanding,” Professor Jung dangles the easy score in front of his nose, sensing Taeil’s contemplation. “Just be sure to finish it by the start of Christmas Break.”

Taeil takes it, “Okay. Thank you, Professor.”

“No, no, thank _you_ ,” The Potions’ master looks genuinely relieved, but there’s no turning back for Taeil now. “Alright, that’s all I have for you today, Mr. Moon. You can start tomorrow, please keep Mondays and Wednesdays free for them, but you’re free to return on the weekends as well. The dungeon will be unlocked for you, and it will be Charmed to lock itself after eleven, so don’t stay out here too late.”

“Alright, thank you, Professor,” Taeil says again, polite. He picks up his books and turns around, half expecting Youngho and Sehun to still be standing around, listening, but the dungeon is empty.

It makes it even more surprising when Youngho is by the door, supposedly waiting for him, “Hey, Taeil.”

Taeil startles when Youngho addresses him, and the other smile at his skittishness, “Youngho.”

“What did Professor Jung want?” Youngho tilts his head, hands clasped behind his back.

“Er,” He stalls, turning away, not knowing if Youngho was going to follow if he was going to leave. But, Youngho does follow, walking by his side now as they veer left, shuffling out of the dungeons. “He just needed some help with inventory.”

“I heard about that,” Youngho nods, and Taeil’s ears perk up. “He had Kyungsoo help out last year.”

Taeil knew Do Kyungsoo, a Slytherin who’d graduated just a year before. He was the top student in Potions for all his seven years in school, “Did he?”

“Yeah,” Youngho sways from side to side when he walks, a lot like a large bear. “Heard it from Sehun. Said it was tedious, had to spend weeks cooped up in the dungeons. But I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he rushes to say, having sensed Taeil’s silence.

“Thanks,” Taeil mutters, and it kills the conversation without much purpose.

They’re approaching the stairs back up to the paved courtyard now, and Youngho’s still walking beside him. He’s about to ask if there’s anything the matter when Youngho speaks,

“Actually, I’ve a favor to ask of you.”

Taeil pauses, a foot on the first step and Youngho only stops when he’s three steps ahead, looking down at him, “Me?”

Youngho nods, looking a little nervous, “I’m doing a little rough on one of my essays of Potions, and, well,” he laughs, “You’re the best, right?”

Taeil looks at his feet, climbing four steps so that he’s eye-level with Youngho (curse the boy and his abundance of height), “I wouldn’t say the best.”

“Well,” Youngho leans against the wall behind him, relaxed. “ _I_ think you are.”

Taeil tries not to let the stone in his throat grow any bigger.

“And I hear you teaching Donghyuck during these sessions,” Youngho jerks his head towards the direction of the Potions’ dungeon. “What do you say? Want to help a friend out?”

 _Friend_. Taeil’s never really thought of them as friends. Just schoolmates, and maybe _acquaintances_ , at best.

“Yeah,” Taeil nods, looking at the wall behind Youngho, because the way the tall boy is staring him… If looks could kill, Taeil would be waiting at the gates of heaven by now. “Yeah, okay.”

“Awesome,” Youngho pushes himself off the wall, giving him a lopsided smile, one that gets Taeil’s heart ramming against his ribcage, begging to be set free. Youngho’s eyes flit to his lips, and then away, as quick as it happened. “I’ll come look for you after dinner today? The library?”

Taeil mulls it over for a moment, knowing Taeyong would be in the Great Hall, going through his notes with a fine-toothed comb. Taeyong hardly enjoyed the presence of others when he was busy studying, and only made Taeil the (occasional) exception. He was sure Taeyong’d preferred it if he’d meet Youngho elsewhere,

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Taeil,” Youngho smiles at him once more, before turning on his heels and leaving.

Taeil’s still standing on the steps of the dungeon, long after the sound of Youngho’s footsteps are gone.

 

The rest of the day goes by painstakingly slow. It’s class after class of swish and flick and textbooks about the History of Magic. Taeil’s not usually dreading classes, after all he’s studying _magic_ , there really isn’t much to complain about.

It’s the thought of sitting in the library with Youngho, hunched over textbooks and rolls of parchment, talking in hushed tones. The thought of Youngho smiling at him across the table, the thought of his eyes practically twinkling, like it does whenever he looks Taeil’s way, the thought of having a reason to look Youngho in the eye, not having to sneak a peek from the safety of hiding behind his books.

Taeil lets himself daydream about it all throughout Professor Choi’s Herbology lecture.

 

x

 

When Youngho reaches the library that evening, his hair is dripping water onto his robes, tie loose around his neck, having just ended Quidditch practice.

Taeil looks up when he hears Youngho’s deep voice whispering apologies lowly, having knocked into several first-years that were too short to be in his line of sight. He straightens up, scanning the library quickly, probably looking for Taeil. His eyebrows lift and he breaks into a smile when he spots Taeil sitting at one of the many desks pushed up against a wall of large windows.

The other tables held one or two students each, huddled over giant textbooks and rolls of parchment paper.

Youngho’s voice cuts through the silence, heavy, like a cauldron dropping to the ground,

“Hey!”

A Ravenclaw shushes him from two tables away. Taeil identifies him as the sixth year Ravenclaw Prefect, but the name escapes him.

“Sorry,” Youngho winces. He drops his bookbag unceremoniously, and it hits the wooden paneled floors with a loud _thunk_. The Ravenclaw sends them another look, dark eyes severe, sharp jaw set tight; Youngho raises a hand apologetically again. He pulls the chair out, and it screeches loudly. The Ravenclaw curses under his breath.

Taeil watches the scene unfold, “Have you never been in here before?”

Youngho slides into the seat, scrunching his nose as he tries not to make any noise, “Maybe once, when I was a first year.”

“Wow,” Taeil blinks, looking over his shoulder to note that the Ravenclaw seemed pacified now that Youngho’s quiet.

“I’m not really a library person,” Youngho grins, gingerly taking a roll of parchment out of his bag.

“Wouldn’t peg you for one either,” Taeil says honestly.

Youngho raises a thick brow, “What kind of person do you peg me for then?”

Taeil fiddles with the pages of his Alchemy notes timidly, slightly taken aback at the question, “I don’t know? Tall, I guess.”

“I was thinking of something like a _quality_ ,” Youngho juts out his bottom lip, tapping against the table. “Not so much a physical characteristic.”

Taeil laughs tensely, but when Youngho looks at him to continue, he racks his brain for a quality that doesn’t give away how head over heels he was for him,

“You’re personable,” Taeil settles, trying to keep it as cordial as possible. He didn’t need to feed his imagination more than he already was. “I always see you around a lot of people, I mean.”

“Oh,” Youngho says simply, and Taeil can’t tell if he’s disappointed at the answer. “I always see you around that other Hufflepuff. Taeyong, is it?”

Taeil’s mind whirls around the idea that Youngho has _noticed_ him, “Yeah. Taeyong.”

“He’s really smart, isn’t he?” Youngho muses, propping his elbow on the table, chin in hand. “I heard from Sehun who heard from some fifth year that he’s always studying, eating those cookies the kitchen cooks up.”

A Slytherin fifth year? Neither Taeyong nor Taeil knew of any fifth years in Slytherin.

He makes a mental note to have Taeyong stop eating so many cookies; they were way too unhealthy to be on his daily snack list, “Yeah, he’s really smart. And yeah, he eats a lot of cookies.”

“Heard he can produce a pretty stable Patronus,” Youngho looks out the window, and Taeil follows his line of sight to the Quidditch Pitch.

“Heard you can cast one too,” Taeil mumbles, and Youngho turns to face him, eyebrows arched.

“Yeah.” A smile tugs at his lips, “Yeah, I can.”

Taeil clears his throat softly, struggling to shove his heart back down his throat, “Didn’t you want help for your essay?”

Youngho laughs, probably at Taeil, “I do, I do. Can I borrow a quill? I keep losing mine.”

“You have only one quill?”

Youngho shrugs, “Never really needed more than one of them at a time.”

Taeil doesn’t know what to say to that, but he fishes a spare black-and-gold eagle-feather quill for Youngho to borrow, and a tub of black ink that Taeyong’d gotten for him for his birthday over the summer.

“Thanks,” Youngho takes the quill carefully, happily dipping it in some ink. He scribbles Taeil’s name messily onto a spare piece of parchment paper, testing the quill out. “It works!”

A quill could very much be the least magical thing in the magical world, of _course_ it’s going to work.

Taeil finds it incredibly endearing.

He’s _so_ hooked.

 

Taeil slips under the covers well past eleven, Youngho keeping him in the library with a barrage of questions until fifteen past. He’d continued on to ask Taeil more about things that weren’t pertaining to his essay, and Taeil tried to redirect the conversation back to Potions as hard as he could.

It was strange, talking to Seo Youngho; it was comfortable, for one. There weren’t many silent pauses, being the talker Youngho is. If there were, it was because the boy was busy writing down whatever Taeil was saying, point after point that he could include in his essay, and Taeil would recite the textbook, all while looking fondly at the top of the boy’s head like a deranged psychopath. Youngho would listen attentively, silent whenever Taeil spoke, eyes encouraging him to continue when he stuttered under Youngho’s gaze.

Taeil thinks Youngho’s lips are charming; the ends are perpetually curved upwards, and they’re full, and they _look_ soft and plush. His cupid’s bow dips just a tiny bit, unlike the massive plunge Taeil’s heart takes whenever Youngho looks up from his essay to smile at him.

He lies in bed, listening to his roommate, Park Jinyoung, snore softly in the bed just several feet away from his. The curtains to his own are pulled shut, and he eyes the thick satin, zoning out as he recalls the events of the day; one of the most memorable days over the past year, he’s sad to admit.

It’s gotten to the part where Youngho’s got him in the stairs to the dungeon, when a blinding, silver _bear_ seeps through the curtains,

Scared into silence, Taeil pushes up against the bed, scrambling to get away as fast as he can, stopping when his head collides with the bed post. His breathes heavily through his nose, feeling his soul leave his body.

It’s a Patronus, he realizes. The first Taeil’s ever seen, apart from Taeyong’s.

The bear has a slip of parchment on his paw, and he holds it out to Taeil wordlessly,

“What the fuck?” Taeil breathes, and he swears he’s going to pass out.

“Taeil?” Jinyoung stirs, and in a flash, Taeil reaches for his wand that’d been casted aside, forgotten. Knowing Jinyoung would fall back asleep easily if he kept quiet, Taeil casts a Silencing Spell around his bed. He waits several heartbeats for Jinyoung’s snore to return, and he moves when it does.

Cautiously, he reaches out to the outstretched paw, and the bear _sighs_ , something Taeil’s never imagined he’d see in his life, looking plenty annoyed at Taeil’s speed. He flips the slip over, and it’s torn at the sides, as if it’s been ripped hastily,

 

_i forget to hand you your quill back!!! it’s really nice, i want one too hahah but thanks for the help today, it really helped move my essay along!!! can we meet again tomorrow???_

It’s not signed but it’s hard to not get that the note was from Youngho (and the Patronus was his too, a bear, of all animals). Taeil reads the message again and again, looking up only to find the bear still in between the canary yellow colored curtain, looking a little… impatient.

“What?” Taeil whispers, not really knowing what’s expectant of him.

The bear sighs again, and leaves.

 

Taeil thinks this might be the most memorable day of his _life_.

 

x

 

“Where did you go last night?” Taeyong asks over breakfast. His notes lay on the empty seat beside him, a neatly tied lunchbox napkin sitting on top of them. It’s a little lumpy looking, and the napkin is of an emerald green. “You missed some pretty good mashed potatoes.”

“Library,” Taeil answers, neatly cutting up his waffles. “Youngho needed a, uh, tutor of some sort.”

Taeyong’s eyes grow as wide as the British biscuit in his hand, “What?”

“I was in the library,” Taeil repeats.

“Yeah, okay, I caught _that_ ,” Taeyong lowers the biscuit. Despite the reaction, Taeil didn’t think Taeyong seemed at all surprised, not with the way he was grinning. “With Youngho? Seo Youngho? The boy you’ve had a colossal crush on since, what? Third year?”

Taeil shoves a bite-sized waffle into his mouth, “Don’t think the Muggles over in the city could hear you, Yong, why don’t you say that a little louder?”

“Sorry,” Taeyong apologizes unapologetically. “But this is Youngho we’re talking about! What did he say? What did you say? What did he do? What did _you_ do?”

Taeil knows the sixth year’s only excited for him because he’s been talking about Youngho for eons, and it’s really the only crush he’s stuck to (it was seventh year’s Cho Kyuhyun back when he was a first year, but that was only because he saw the Slytherin Prefect singing in Frog Choir).

“We just talked about his essay,” Taeil shrugs. He didn’t mention the Patronus, still reeling from the surprise of it all, and he barely slept a wink last night, mortified the giant bear would return.

“And? There must be something else, isn’t – ”

There’s a swish of black robes with scarlet lining. The Gryffindor crest on Youngho’s chest interrupts them swiftly,

“Good morning!”

Taeyong blanches, reclining away from Youngho, “Er, morning.”

“Taeyong, right?” Youngho doesn’t seem bothered by Taeyong’s hostility, which took Taeil months to learn that it was just simply how Taeyong worked around strangers. It made him look cold and indifferent, what with his large eyes that daunted even Taeil when they’d first met, but he was truly empathetic and warm-hearted person (under all his frank remarks).

“Yeah,” Taeyong picks his biscuit up again, promptly dismissing any sort of conversation Youngho intended to continue with.

Youngho smiles anyway, turning to look at Taeil now, “Can I speak to you for a bit?”

Three other Gryffindor are looking his way from the table across the hall, but Taeil ignores them, “Yeah, sure.”

He climbs out of the bench, walking to the end of the table by the entrance, and Youngho does the same.

Even from a distance, Taeyong’s eyes are wide and unmistakably concentrated on them, and Taeil sends him a quick frown.

“Did you get my message last night?” Youngho says first, black hair hanging over his eyes as he bends down to speak to the shorter Hufflepuff. He’s _so_ close. Taeil can smell his toothpaste. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Taeil’s eyes unintentionally follow the movement. “From my Patronus?”

Taeil’d forgotten about that, what with Youngho’s face being just inches away, _Did he have to stand so close?_

“Yes. The giant bear that drifted through my bed curtains.”

“It’s a brown bear,” Youngho clarifies. “And it’s not ‘giant’.”

Taeil deadpans, “It was over six feet, Youngho. It was huge. And horrifying, considering the circumstances.”

“Sorry,” Youngho scrunches his nose, like he was having a delightful time teasing Taeil. “Should’ve warned you before I sent Bruno.’

“Bruno?”

Youngho laughs softly, “Like, Bruno Mars?”

Taeil face burns at Youngho’s childlike manners, wondering how someone could look like _that_ and have such goofy thoughts, “You named your Patronus? You named your Patronus, a bear, a brown bear, Bruno?”

Youngho clicks his tongue, leaning away, “Are you mocking me? You’re starting to sound a lot like Donghyuck.”

Taeil can breathe again. “Sorry. Didn’t think of you as someone who’d name their Patronus.”

“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about me,” Youngho observes correctly, and Taeil’s brain goes into overload, but Youngho saves him by continuing, “I was wondering if we could meet again today? After classes? Library?”

“Oh.” Taeil is reminded of the large list he has to go through, and he sighs, “I’m helping Professor Jung out today.”

“That’s okay,” Youngho shrugs. “I just need some help with certain points! I’ll sit in the dungeon, and I’ll only disturb you if I have to.”

It’s a little out of the blue, how far Youngho would go just to get his help on an essay not due for another couple of months, but Taeil doesn’t attribute it to anything other than Youngho worried about his grades, “Yeah, sure, if you want.”

“Meet you at half past eight? I’ll bring your quill too.”

Taeil nods, “Okay.”

“See you later,” Youngho turns on his heels, but he’s back again in a split second. “By the way,” a smile, “Bruno was waiting for a reply last night if you were wondering.”

Taeil blinks, “What?”

“A reply,” he repeats. “Just hand him another note, if you want, and he’ll take it to me,” Youngho further explains when Taeil remained confused. “He’s like an extension of me.”

“Yes,” Taeil nods, and resists the urge to roll his eyes. “The giant brown bear Bruno.”

“Not giant,” Youngho sing-songs with a smile, and then he’s off, sauntering back to the Gryffindor table, where Jaehyun and Mingyu await him.

 

(“Moon Taeil, that was _not_ nothing!” Taeyong berates when he returns to his seat, hugging the lunchbox napkin close to him. “Tell me everything, and tell me now!”)

 

x

 

Taeil is in the dungeons by eight, having inhaled his dinner whole, nervous about meeting Youngho again.

The Potions’ classroom is eerily dark and quiet, not quite like how it is during the day with students and Professor Jung belting out instructions. The giant cauldron by the teacher’s desk is still bubbling, brown and murky, and Taeil doesn’t concern himself with whatever the Potion’s master got brewing in his spare time.

“Why are you standing in the dark?”

Taeil ducks when a flurry of hot air brushes past the tip of his head. Holding the clipboard out in front of him like a shield, he turns to find Youngho standing by the entrance of the classroom, staring down at him, an amused look on his face,

“Did I scare you?”

Taeil rights himself, tugging on his robes, “Clearly.”

“Sorry,” Youngho shuts the door behind him. “Didn’t know why you were standing in the dark.” With a flourish of his wand, flicking it and then drawing it back again, Youngho sends little globules of white light around the dark classroom, illuminating it far better than the candlelight Taeil’s used to.

“You’re really good at Charms,” Taeil compliments off-handedly, moving to leave his bookbag by a table, Youngho mimicking his actions.

“Why, thank you,” Youngho smirks, settling into the desk, concurrently pulling out his writing materials and unfinished essay. “I think I’m pretty good too if I do say so myself.”

Taeil gets to work immediately, and Youngho keeps his promise, not bothering the other with odd questions like he did the night before, fully concentrated on his essay.

It’s a pleasant sort of silence, sans the sound of vials clinking together when Taeil plucks them off the shelf, or the scratching of quill against paper, or the sound of Youngho humming to some pop music from the late 90s, Taeil recognizes.

There’s nothing much to go on, Taeil never having been a talkative person, and Youngho being busy with his essay. Still, it makes Taeil feel some sort of _way_ , like when Youngho expressed even just the slightest bit of interest, wanting to spend time together. It gets Taeil’s thinking; what could have been if he was just a little more outspoken? Or if he were sorted into Gryffindor, and made the Quidditch team? What would’ve he have played? Chaser? Beater? _Seeker_?

He’s midway through a daydream about having meals at the Gryffindor table when Youngho groans from his seat.

“I don’t ever want to look at the word ‘magical herbs’ ever again,” Youngho lets his head thud against the desk. Taeil looks over his shoulder from his position by the side of the dungeon, the clipboard Charmed to suspend mid-air beside him while he checked the labels on the bottles off the wall. “Is a six-foot essay really necessary? Really? When am I going to use this knowledge in real life?”

Taeil hums, just to acknowledge Youngho’s sufferings. He scans the wall for any other vials of Billywig sting, sighing to himself when he finds that there are none. _Five-and-a-half vials_ , he jots on the clipboard.

“I’m still sore from Quidditch practice,” Youngho’s voice is muffled by his arm, starting to digress from his essay, something Taeil’s realized the boy does a lot whenever he was getting tired. “And the locker rooms were so noisy today too. The Chasers kept hexing soap bars across showers. Thank god for the Prefects’ bathroom.”

Taeil has never been Prefect, but he has heard of the advantages of the Prefects’ bathroom on the sixth floor; usually empty, large hot tubs, and copious amounts of bath salts.

“Your friend Taeyong,” He’s leaning back in his seat now, tossing his wand around, an action that caused the tip to spark sporadically. “Is he usually that… squeamish around people? Or is it just me?”

“Might’ve been just you,” Taeil shrugs nonchalantly, and he laughs when Youngho’s face falls. “I’m just pulling your leg,” he checks of another couple of boxes on the list. “He’s like that around strangers, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, good.”

Taeil picks up an infusion of Wormwood, squinting at the fading label, “Why?”

“I was thinking about sitting with you guys during breaks,” Youngho’s voice is nothing but causal. The green bottle nearly slips through Taeil’s fingers. “I think I’m going to need more help on this than I thought, and it’d be tough if he didn’t like me.”

Taeil looks up, gripping the bottle tight, “You want to sit with us?”

Youngho pauses from the game of tossing his wand, cocking his head to the side, “Is that okay?”

It wasn’t abnormal or anything, for students of different houses to sit at another house’s table, but this is Seo Youngho and not just any other Gryffindor, and this is Moon Taeil, not anyone important, “You _want_ to?”

“Yeah,” Youngho smiles slowly, flicking his wand again to relight several globules of light that’d died out. “I think it’s time for me to make friends outside my own house, don’t you think?”

Taeil thinks to bring up Sehun, but it doesn’t leave his lips. The idea of having to deal with his raging heart every morning, between classes, during study breaks… Just the mere thought of it was enough to tire him out.

“What d’you say?” Youngho poses the question. “Think you could handle me and my incessant talking for more than just a couple of hours at a go?”

Spending time with Youngho could very well be the top wish on Taeil’s list if he were ever visited by a wish-granting fairy.

Taeil hums, looking back at the bottle in his hands, trying his very best to ignore the way his limbs are growing weak at the speed of their budding friendship, “So you _do_ know you talk a lot.”

“I’m going to look past that insult,” Youngho gives him a look, pointing his wand at Taeil’s clipboard, nudging it to the left a little. Taeil grabs it before it flits away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly, “And take that as a ‘yes’ to my request?”

“Sure,” Taeil sniffs. “It’s not going to be as exciting as breakfast with your teammates, I’ll warn you now, it’s quiet between Taeyong and I.”

“I’ll take that challenge,” Youngho muses. “Maybe Taeyong’ll share some of his cookies with me by the end of the year.”

Taeil doesn’t want to think about the end of the school year; it meant that he wasn’t going to see Youngho ever again, if he was being completely honest with himself. There would be no reason for them to meet up, and they’d probably get jobs in different industries, making it even less likely for their paths to cross.

It’s another reason not to pursue this ridiculous crush he’s been harboring.

Suppressing the pathetic thought, he replies,

“Doubt it, but you can try.”

Youngho isn’t fazed, “We’ll see.”

 

x

 

True to his word, Youngho is at the Hufflepuff table the next morning, and he’s there again during study periods, and he’s there again during dinner. It was a bit of a hassle at first, convincing Taeyong that Youngho was there purely because he needed help with his essay, and not some bizarre reason Taeyong’s concocted to fuel Taeil’s laughable daydreams.

 

What Taeil _didn’t_ account for was Youngho and Taeyong actually having things to talk about. They argued about spells Taeil’s never heard of, about the limitations of Patronus’, about which Quidditch team was going to win the Quidditch World Cup this year. Youngho’d let Taeyong win most of those arguments (except when it came to anything related to the school’s Quidditch teams). It’s positively baffling, how easy it was for Youngho to slip into their tiny friend group, even managing to get on Taeyong’s good side (on some days).

Maybe it had something to do with the suspicious cookies Youngho was delivering to him every morning.

 

“Are you really not going to tell me?” Taeil asks, nearly two months since Youngho’d started to join him, and by relation, Taeyong, for breakfast. Taeyong drags his index finger along the parchment as he reads. “I can’t believe Youngho knows and I don’t, honestly.”

Taeyong huffs, losing his focus. He mutters, “It’s not like I have a choice…”

Taeil’s about to ask him to _please_ elaborate, but he spots Youngho walking up to them, bright smile on his face, books in his hands, bag on his shoulder; a sight Taeil’s still not quite used to seeing every morning, especially not when the smile is directed at him (and by relation, Taeyong). There’s a flank of Gryffindors behind him, but he shoos them away when he saunters over towards the Hufflepuffs instead.

Taeil looks back down at his half-eaten breakfast, cheeks warming up.

“Morning guys,” Youngho slides into the seat beside him, knees and shoulders bumping into Taeil. He usually took the seat beside Taeil, and he figures it’s just because it’d be easier for Youngho to speak with Taeyong that way. Youngho leaves his textbooks heavily on his left, Taeyong’s morning delivery sitting on the top of it all.

It’s the same lunchbox napkin, emerald with intricate patterns, one that Youngho’s been bringing to Taeyong every morning. He plucks it by the tips, swinging it between the three of them gently.

“Sehun says he’s going to start charging you if you guys keep this up.”

“Morning,” Taeil murmurs, and then, “Are you really not going to tell me who it’s from?” He asks around his goblet of orange juice. It was originally pumpkin, but Youngho taught him how to Charm it into orange during one of their first few breakfasts together, after learning that it was Taeil’s favourite. (It turned into guava the first few tries, but Youngho was a patient teacher.)

They’d gotten around to filling out each other’s weaknesses, if Taeil were to put it in his own words to feed is hallucinations.

Taeil would help him with his Potions’ essay, and sometimes his Herbology projects (he was struggling with Venomous Tentaculas, and already had about five Galleons in Professor Choi’s Swear Jar). Youngho would help him pick up easy Charms, or correct him on his wandwork whenever he saw Taeil making mistakes. Taeil would help him make sure he left enough time aside for his homework by meeting him every day to mark his progress, lest he spends the entire day messing around on the Quidditch Pitch with the rest of his team.

Youngho would tell him stories in return; Taeil didn’t know if that could suffice as any sort of return for his help, but he listens anyway. Not because he adored the way Youngho’s eyes shone when he was retelling a story about a victorious Quidditch match, or the way he smiled, _so_ wide, when he shared with Taeil how lucky it was that they found Minhyung, their current Seeker, because their previous one was a 7th year who graduated two years ago (Byun Baekhyun, a petite boy who was quick on a broom). They couldn’t find a replacement, and had to live with Jaehyun being a Seeker for half a school year, which made winning games _incredibly_ difficult, considering how the boy was a Chaser. Or the way Youngho couldn’t stop laughing through his stories, making them a little harder to understand, especially the ones that involved ten other peoples, names lost on him, but Taeil thought it was endearing.

It was nice, if Taeil were to put it simply, to have Youngho around.

Yet, he remained as an unattainable dream to Taeil, who still can’t get used to the fact that Youngho was voluntarily hanging out with them, of all people.

Taeyong reaches for the lunchbox napkin hastily, ignoring Taeil as if he wasn’t even there, “Thanks. Tell Sehun I’ll have my Transfiguration notes duplicated for him. As promised.”

“What about me?” Youngho scoots closer to Taeil, reaching over the smaller boy to pick up a bread roll from the basket. Taeil holds his breath, but he isn’t quick enough, and Youngho smells of lavender.

He inhales sharply, and Youngho turns to look at him quizzically. Taeil smiles tightly in response, motioning at the bread basket. Youngho grins mischievously, as if he _knew_ exactly what was on his mind, nudging Taeil’s chest playfully before moving away.

It’s always a little hard to breathe around Youngho.

“You get to hang out with Taeil,” Taeyong scoffs, and Taeil blushes instantly. He looks at the teacher’s table, afraid of Youngho’s response.

He laughs, “I’ll take it.”

Taeil lets out the tiny breath he’d been holding.

“By the way, Sehun says,” Youngho bumps into Taeil again, reaching for the bowl of jam. He murmurs apologetically, and Taeil tilts away to let him reach for it. Youngho was always bumping into him, accidentally brushing hands and shoulders.

That's how Youngho was, constantly knocking into Taeil, tripping over his feet to have Taeil catch him before he hits the ground, squeezing past him, pressing up against him in class, even though Youngho could’ve easily gone around a different desk.

He didn’t know what to think of it; he didn’t expect the captain of a Quidditch team to be so clumsy.

“He says to ask whoever it is to stop sending it directly to his room. It’s really starting to freak everyone out. Says Im Jaebum’s going to hex him if he sees it floating on the edge of their beds again.”

“Wait,” Taeil blinks. “You don’t know who it’s from?”

Across him, Taeyong rushes to interrupt, “Guys, it’s – ”

“No,” Youngho turns to look at Taeil, equally taken aback. “I thought you knew?”

“No,” Taeil echoes, and they turn to look at Taeyong, who glares at them both, looking like he _really_ wanted to just up and leave the conversation,

So, he does,

“I’ll see you guys later,” Taeyong says hastily, packing up his things with a swish of his wand, stalking out of the Great Hall, robes billowing behind him.

It’s silent for a second, both Youngho and Taeil watch as Taeyong leaves, turning around the corner with his head ducked down. Taeil eyes the Slytherin table, but no one looks particularly ruffled by his departure.

“Sehun says it’s the same fifth year,” Youngho shrugs, biting into his bread roll, looking oddly small in his hands. “The one I told you about?”

Taeil thinks it’s stupid; how a simple sentence like that could kickstart a million scenes in his head. Did Youngho remember all of their conversations like Taeil did? Down to the last joke? Down to the last goodbye? Do his ears grow hot at the idea of them becoming more than just acquaintances? Did he ever think of that? Did he have trouble breathing if they sit a little too close? Breaths mingling, hearts thumping?

Probably not.

“What was his name?” Taeil clears his throat.

“‘Dunno,” Youngho hums, finishing his bread roll. “Don’t know if Sehun knows either.”

Taeil sighs, looking at the entrance of the Great Hall, as if Taeyong would appear again if he stared hard enough, return to the table so that he could ask more.

Youngho fidgets restlessly beside him, rummaging through his bookbag.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Taeil wonders, eyeing the crumbs on his plate.

Youngho lifts his head, and Taeil _really_ looks at him;

Large, almond shaped eyes, thick brows, high, rounded nose. The same lips, full, a little wet from pumpkin juice.

His hair looks a little more disheveled today, and his robes are askew. He looks a little thinner, jaw a little sharper, cheeks a little less like a chipmunk, compared to their first meeting in the library. The dark circles under his eyes are a little… worrying.

It’s the workload. The responsibilities, and the schoolwork, and the Quidditch practices.

There’s nothing odd about Taeil noticing it either. He’s seen the boy every day for a month now, the least he can do is tell if the other is unwell or not. (Or so he tells himself.)

He also tells himself that it’s unfair. It’s unfair, how much he wanted to hug Youngho. How much he wanted to nurse him back to health, worry brewing in his gut even at the slightest inclination that he was under the weather.

That was nothing odd either. He’s just caring for Youngho as a friend might.

What _was_ odd, was how much he wanted Youngho to know just how _much_ he cared. How much he wanted Youngho to know how much he wanted to hug him, nurse him back to health. How much he wanted to tell Youngho how he felt.

Yet he knew he couldn’t. Not with the differences between them, not with the hundreds of other suitors Taeil could never compete with, not with Taeil being Taeil and Youngho being Youngho. It was demoralizing, but it was true.

It wasn’t anything worth pursuing. Was it?

“Yeah,” Youngho sniffs, pulling him back to reality. “I’m not that hungry. Why?”

Taeil pauses, “You just look a little thin…” Youngho blinks, and Taeil fumbles, “I mean. You look a little sick. And thinner, than usual.”

Youngho’s lips form a tiny ‘o’, “I’m alright.”

Taeil nods, looking back down at his own plate of conjured scrambled eggs and toast.

“But,” Youngho hums, signature mischievous tone is laced in his voice again. “I could probably use a break, or something.”

“A break?”

“Yeah,” He coughs. “I was thinking of going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

Taeil doesn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”

“Want to go with me?”

 _That sounds like a date_. Taeil shakes his head, _No. No, it absolutely doesn’t._

Except that it did. There aren’t really many places to go for students who wanted to date while at Hogwarts, which made Hogsmeade crawl with couples on the weekends.

“To Hogsmeade?” Taeil repeats. “With you?”

“Yeah,” Youngho shrugs, aloof, looking away now. “I need to get some quills now that I’m using them so often again, and I wanted to get the one you lent me.”

 _Oh_ , Taeil thinks. _That makes sense_. “Okay, then.”

Youngho sends him a crooked grin, “I might have practice again tomorrow morning, depending on how well we do later.” He looks at the clock behind Taeil, “I’ll send Bruno tonight too, so don’t be too startled this time.”

Taeil doesn’t mention how he keeps a quill, ink, and spare parchment by his bed now, hopeful to hear from Youngho every night. 

 

That night, when Bruno sifts through his bed curtains, Taeil is close to nodding off. He’d spent the day rearranging the final row of vials around the dungeon for his little Potions’ extra credit, and he was going to have to start on cataloguing the inventory closet as well.

Still, it was better than crying over another one of Professor Jung’s essays.

“Hi,” Taeil murmurs under his breath after casting a Silencing Spell, reaching for the note in Bruno’s corporeal paw. The bear doesn’t seem impressed, so Taeil focuses on the note,

 

_team did well today, but we’re still having practice in the evening!! we’ll leave after breakfast??_

_i hope you reply this time hahah_

 

Ignoring the way Bruno seemed to breathe down his shoulder, he dips the quill quickly into the tub of ink, hovering it over the parchment. After a moment more of thinking, he settles with,

 

_okay, see you tomorrow_

x

 

Going to Hogsmeade with the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team is no easy feat.

Taeil should’ve expected that Youngho came with a posse. It was like buying a Ken doll, and then being gifted with the rest of his frat boys at the register.

 

“Who are you?”

Taeil clutches onto his robes tightly, feeling extremely out of place, even though the only discernable thing out of the group surrounding him is the yellow lining of his robes, and the crest on his chest. It didn’t help that the lot of them towered over him easily, _Did they have a different meal plan at the Gryffindor table?_

Youngho slings an arm around his shoulder, and Taeil stumbles a little, cheeks starting to heat up, “Guys, this is Moon Taeil, friend of mine.”

This wasn’t what he was thinking of when Youngho asked him out.

 _No, no,_ he corrects himself. _This is_ exactly _what Youngho meant_. _He probably just needed help picking the right quill out._

He really should’ve asked Taeyong to come along then, but the boy was in a particularly bad mood as well, cooped up in the Common Room, nose buried in piles of notes. Taeil’d thought to apologize, for the way he and Youngho ( _badump!_ ) were urging him to reveal whoever it was he was speaking to. Taeyong waved him away, saying it’s got nothing to do with the sort, and Taeil sighs, promising to buy him some Cauldron Cakes, which were, again, a little too sweet to Taeil’s liking.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the boy introduces himself, and then the others on his flanks, as if Taeil didn’t already notice them glaring daggers at him during meal times. “Kim Mingyu, Lee Seokmin. Chasers.”

It would’ve been a lot more intimidating if he wasn’t hiding behind Youngho, “Nice to meet you.”

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Sehun interrupts their conversation, bounding down the steps with his own army of Slytherin followers behind him. There’s a Ravenclaw amongst them, sharp eyes, familiar but Taeil can’t put a name to him.

Sehun hooks an arm around Youngho easily, pulling both of them along.

Taeil feels a little sick.

He lets Youngho’s arm slip from over his shoulders, and he tries to turn around, let himself fade into the background –

“Taeil?”

He cringes inwardly, explaining before he’s even asked, “I think I’m going to go back to the castle… Check on Taeyong back in the Common Room. He seemed a little sick.”

Youngho stares at him for a second, and so does Sehun. Everyone’s looking at him now. Someone in the back shifts.

“Are you sure?” Youngho laughs, and Taeil lets himself believe that it sounds a little apprehensive. “I thought you and I were going to Scrivenshaft’s? To get quills?”

“The one I use is pretty good,” a girl shrugs, examining her nails carefully. Taeil recognizes her to be Jung Soojung, quite possibly the most beautiful girl on campus grounds, another seventh year Slytherin. She really _was_ gorgeous, with her brown hair framing her pale face, nose straight and high, lips glossed.

Taeil rushes to agree, “Yeah, I think – ”

Youngho stares at him now, expression blank. He doesn’t seem to care about the way Taeil shrunk under his gaze, and Taeil’s never seen Youngho… mad? Was he mad?

“Thanks, Soojung, but I want the one _Taeil_ has. And he’s agreed to accompany me today, didn’t you?”

The way his name rolls of Youngho’s tongue makes his heart fly out of his ears, “Yeah, but wouldn’t it be better if – ”

Sehun tuts, rolling his eyes, tugging Youngho along, “Come on already, I want to get to Three Broomsticks quick. I can’t have food two hours prior to Quidditch practice, you know that!” He has a hand on his slim waist, visible even under his cloak. “Are you coming or not, Taeil?”

It’s different now. He’s not answering to Youngho, who he could probably run from, and the boy would be mad ( _No, he wouldn’t. Why would he be mad?),_ but still understand his reasons. This was Oh Sehun he was answering to; lanky and intimidating, an air of confidence around him, not quite gracious with stumbles like Youngho was, not quite familiar like Youngho was. He wasn’t even sure how he knew Taeil’s name.

Youngho stretches a hand out, looking expectantly at Taeil to grab it. So, he does, under the pressure of twenty other students staring at him.

The hand is warm, and it’s makes Taeil want to shiver, but he forces it down, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself. He’s expecting Youngho to let go as soon as they trail down the beaten path, chattering noisily, just like they always do, but Youngho doesn’t.

“Hey,” Taeil looks up from burying his chin into his cloak (a lot like a four-year-old being dragged around by their parent) to find the Ravenclaw from before, walking beside him, looking a lot annoyed. “You’re Taeil, right? Hufflepuff?”

He thought it’d be obvious, what with the crest on his chest, “Yeah.”

“Yuta,” the boy nods, businesslike. “Nakamoto Yuta, sixth year.”

Taeil notices another boy, a Slytherin with coral colored hair, maybe a little closer to a pale orange, on his other side, staring intently at the ground, “Hi.”

“Yeah, hi,” Yuta snorts. _Oh. The boy from the library. Ravenclaw’s sixth year Prefect_. “You mentioned Taeyong earlier? Is he sick?”

 _What?_ “Taeyong?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuta is impatient, snapping his fingers. “The boy with the cookie addiction?”

Taeil frowns, “You know Taeyong?”

Yuta’s reply is lost in the wind, and Taeil ducks a little to the left, a little closer to Youngho, when the wind hits them.

His heart drops for a moment, because Youngho’s loosening his grip on Taeil’s hand. Thinking the other must want his hand back, Taeil tries to pull away, but Youngho catches him again, interlacing their fingers together this time.

It kicks up the notch on intimacy, palm to palm, knuckles to knuckles.

Taeil glances up, but Youngho is still busy laughing with Sehun.

The tip of his ears are red, but it’s just the wind, Taeil decides.

“Hello?” Yuta waves a hand in his face, and Taeil blinks.

“What?” He grits out, a little taken aback by his bluntness.

“Is he sick?” Yuta sounds exasperated, as if he was dealing with something he’d rather not be dealing with. “You mentioned he was sick?”

The boy on Yuta’s other side shoves him lightly, and Yuta nudges back roughly. He curses under his breath.

Taeil clears his throat, “He’s just not in a good mood today.” He should probably reassure the boy if he was _that_ worried to come up to Taeil, “I’m getting him some snacks from Honeydukes, he’ll be fine.”

“What are you getting him?”

The gates to Hogsmeade comes into view, and Taeil wonders if he should let go of Youngho now.

“Cauldron Cakes. Why?”

Yuta pauses, “I’ll get them for him.”

Taeil furrows his brows, “Why?”

That seemed to push him over the edge, he deadpans, “I have this _huge_ crush on him and his stupid cookie addiction, but I’m too much of an idiot to go about putting in the legwork. I’m going to buy him the Cauldron Cakes.”

And he stalks away from Taeil, the Slytherin boy hot on his heels, “What the was _that_ for?!”

“What was that about?” Youngho leans down to whisper, and Taeil turns so quick, he bumps into Youngho’s chin.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “And I don’t know. I think he might have a thing for Taeyong?”

“Huh,” Youngho hums, lips curving downwards, thinking. “Sounded a little sarcastic.”

Taeil shrugs. He doesn’t mention the Slytherin boy, “Probably not then.”

“Probably not.”

 

They skip hanging out at Three Broomsticks, to Sehun’s disapproval, heading straight for Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. Taeil slips his hand free from Youngho’s grasp when they enter the store, quickly busying himself with the shelves of stationary. He pads over to the section of quills, a mass array of pheasant, eagle, and peacock quills, along with various bottles of ink tubs, black and navy blue. It’s near the back of the shop, a little emptier than where the fancy quills are displayed in the front. Youngho follows him slowly, trailing his hands along the shelves, examining the different types of parchment the store sold.

“Found it,” Taeil mutters under his breath, eyeing up at the black-and-gold eagle-feather quill, the same exact one he’d lent Youngho. It was displayed three rows above Taeil’s line of sight. He tiptoes to reach for it, but Youngho’s by his side in a second, hand grabbing it easily.

It’s a little close and a lot unnecessary, the way he’s pressed up against Taeil, the way he’s staring down at him, eyes a little dark under the dim light.

Taeil takes a step back, craning his neck up to glare at Youngho, “Are you flaunting your height right now? Because I – ”

It’s soft lips against his.

He gasps, eyes crossing, trying to focus, _focus_ , on Youngho’s face in front of him. Youngho huddles him against the corner of the shop, hands coming up to cage Taeil in, cloak effectively covering them from any sort of prying eyes.

Youngho kisses him tender, and Taeil counts the number of times his heart bangs against his chest.

It’s only after the eighth beat that he kisses back, letting his eyes fall shut.

His brain lights on fire, obliterating every single thought in his mind, when he realizes that he’s kissing Youngho, and a blast of warmth spreads through his body.

Youngho relaxes against him, playing with Taeil’s lower lip, catching it between his own and then releasing, and then again, and again, and again.

It felt like Youngho was trying to devour him, breathing against him hotly.

Too much.

Taeil pushes him away, admittedly, weakly.

He was sure he didn’t want this with Youngho. He didn’t want dates, and hugs, and kisses. He didn’t want all of Youngho’s attention on him, he didn’t want Youngho to have to leave his friends just to hang out with him, because he’s so incapable of getting along with the others. He didn’t want Youngho to skip out on having fun just because Taeil was so innately boring.

Or maybe he did. Maybe he _did_ want it, and it’s selfish to ask for, selfish to admit that it’s been a long time since he’s wanted Youngho like this, kissing him, looking at him, just him. Maybe he did want it, the way Youngho smiles at him, winks at him, even when other people are staring. Maybe he did want it, the way Youngho cared for him, stuck close to him.

Maybe he was afraid; it was two different worlds clashing now.  

Youngho shouldn’t be at Hogsmeade with Taeil. He should be here with Soojung, sweet and delicate, tall and perfect to match Youngho. Or even Sehun, lean and charming, yet alluring in his own way. Youngho shouldn’t be hanging around with Taeil. He should be back at the Gryffindor table, where Taeil can watch him from afar, a picture that didn’t fit have space for a Hufflepuff like he was. Youngho shouldn’t be wasting his evenings with Taeil in the dungeons, not when he could be spending time doing other, more important things. Other things that didn’t involve Taeil.

Youngho shouldn’t be kissing him in the back of Scrivenshaft’s.

Yet, here they are.

“Sorry,” Youngho covers his lips with a hand. Taeil rests his head against the ledge behind him, thoroughly overwhelmed. His lips are throbbing. “I – I didn’t mean to do that.”

Taeil lips are parted, and he’s trying _so_ hard not to run away.

“I couldn’t resist,” Youngho licks his lips, edgy. “I – I wanted to kiss you really badly, I’m sorry Taeil.”

“What?” Taeil croaks, mortified. “You wanted to _what_?”

Youngho wets his lips again, and Taeil wished, _wished_ , he would stop, “Sorry, I – I couldn’t help it.”

Taeil swallows thickly, “What are you talking about?”

“I really like you,” Youngho huffs, and his hands drop to his sides. Taeil squints when the candlelight hits him square in the face. “And I wanted to kiss you.”

It seems like he has more to say, so Taeil waits. But Youngho doesn’t continue, fidgeting with the quill in his hand. An unusual sight, Youngho being so tense.

“Are you – ”

“There you are!” Sehun’s booming voice shakes them both, and they jump a foot in the air. The clerk by the counter shushes him, but Sehun ignores the warning, waving Youngho over. “Quidditch Pitch is free! Prof. Kim says all practices are moved up, there might be rainfall tonight.”

Youngho looks between Taeil and Sehun nervously, “I’m actually – ”

“Come on now,” Sehun clicks his tongue. “I don’t want to be flying around in the rain, Youngho.”

“Alright, alright,” Youngho motions for him to get out. “I’ll be there in just a second.”

Sehun narrows his eyes, but he concedes, “Fine. Twenty minutes, dressed and in the air!”

Taeil briefly wonders what it would be like to be friends with Sehun.

“Yes,” Youngho groans, and he rounds on Taeil when the Slytherin finally does leave. “I’m sorry, I – ”

“No, no,” Taeil rushes, laughing, sounding a little hysterical. “You should go, I get it.”

Youngho blinks, “Do you want to come watch us practice? We’re going to be playing rounds with Slytherin,” he smiles faintly, “It might be fun seeing Sehun try and hex me mid-air?”

Taeil clasps his hands together, “It’s okay, I don’t, er, have to.”

“Oh, okay,” Taeil flinches at how deflated Youngho sounds. “I still want to talk to you, y’know,” Youngho takes his hands. They’re _cold._ “About this. Us.”

 _Us_.

Taeil’s heart skips.

“Will you be in the dungeons?” Youngho sounds hopeful. “I’ll come find you after practice?”

He can’t think of a reason to get out of it, “Okay.”

Youngho’s smile grows a little wider, “Okay.”

Taeil wants to remind him to _get going_ , because Sehun’s probably going to get mad if he’s late, and –

“Can I kiss you again?”

This time, he doesn’t want to think of a reason to get out of it, “Okay.”

Youngho kisses him again, quick but cushiony, and he tastes like pumpkin juice from breakfast.

 

Even after Youngho’s long gone, having bought his quill, waving goodbye with the brightest smile on his face, Taeil stays in Scrivenshaft’s, composing himself.

But he still jogs back to the castle, really needing someone to confide in.

When he passes the Quidditch Pitch, he sees the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams already practicing, and even from afar, he can see Youngho by the rings, sitting leisurely on his broom.

Maybe he _should_ watch Youngho play one day.

 _Enough of that_ , he berates himself, resuming his rush back to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“Taeyong,” he rasps the moment he enters the warm den.

It’s empty, since everyone’s out at Hogsmeade, or spending the day out in the sun. Taeyong sits in one of the giant reading chairs, notes sprawled out around him, wand in hand, like he was ready to cast a spell.

“What are you doing back here?” Taeyong says stiffly, and Taeil notices two Cauldron Cakes set out on the table.

“Did you meet that Yuta guy?” Taeil walks towards him, growing suspicious when Taeyong glances to the empty seat on his left, straightening. “He said he was going to buy you Cauldron Cakes? What’s that about?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says quickly. “Yeah, I met him. Thanks.”

Taeil approaches him warily, “Were you studying?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong stands, carefully sidestepping his notes on the floor, heading towards Taeil. “What are you doing back so early?”

Taeil sighs when Taeyong rests a hand on his elbow, and he feels mildly comforted, “You wouldn’t _believe_ what Youngho did, Taeyong, he – ”

“No, no!” Taeyong rushes to say, puffing his cheeks out, extremely alarmed.

“What?” Taeil glances around the room. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Er,” Taeyong looks pained, and a little more panicky. “We can’t talk about this here.”

The couch cushions _shift_ , and Taeil jumps, “What? Taeyong, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Taeyong ushers him out of the Common Room, pushing him through the grand arcs. “I promise we can talk about it tomorrow, but you don’t want to talk about it _here,_ I’m serious.”

“What?” Taeil tries to dig his heels into the ground, but Taeyong’s surprisingly strong when he wants to be. “Are you in some sort of trouble or something?”

“It’s nothing! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The door shuts behind him.

 

Sighing, he leaves for the dungeons.

 

x

 

It’s about half past six when Taeil’s about done with the first box of vials in the closet, sitting on the dusty floor, not really caring about the tiny spiders scattering about. He contemplates going to the Great Hall for dinner, but Taeyong might not be there, considering how odd he was acting. Besides, he said he’d wait for Youngho in the dungeons.

Exhaling loudly, he stands up, leaning down to pick a crate of empty vials, intending to shift them out of the closet, so that he’d have more space to work –

“Taeil?”

The sound of Youngho’s voice spooks him, and he jolts, the vials in the crate clanking noisily. Through the slit in the door, he spots Youngho by the entrance, still clad in his Quidditch uniform, dirty pants, a thin sheen of sweat over him.

“Are you in here?”

He’s about to knee the door open, when Soojung walks in, a little out of breath,

“Hey, stupid. You left your _wand_ in the locker room!” She hands it to him, rolling her eyes. It reminds Taeil a little bit of Sehun. “Can’t believe you got me running after to you, all the way to the dungeons, no doubt!”

Youngho turns away from the closet, distracted, “Oh, thanks. I was, uh, just in a rush to get here.”

“Why?” Soojung grins, flipping her hair out of her face, and Taeil holds his breath. She was the epitome of perfect. “Got a hot date waiting for you here?”

Youngho waves at her dismissively, “Rubbish.”

Taeil’s arms whine at the strain, and the crate wobbles in his arms. His throat is starting to tighten, and he studies the way Youngho stands next to Soojung, how nice they would look together. How nice they would look walking the halls together, having breakfast together. How nice it would look, Youngho running across the Quidditch Pitch to envelope her into a hug after winning a game.

Doesn’t seem like a role Taeil could ever fulfil.

Elusive. Unattainable.

“What are you doing here then?” Soojung frowns, eyes scanning the room, and Taeil stumbles backwards, even though he was hidden by the door. “Heard Sehun’s got some extra Acid Pops from Honeydukes today, you should sit with us for dinner.”

“I was supposed to meet someone,” Youngho blinks around the room, and Taeil closes his eyes, praying to any sort of higher power, _please, please, please_. “But he might be in the Great Hall…”

“The boy from today?”

Taeil opens his eyes just in time to see Soojung hooking an arm around Youngho’s.

He hates how good it looks.

“Yeah,” Youngho takes a step towards the front of the classroom, and Taeil bites on his lip. “I have to find him before curfew.”

“You should have him sit with us,” Soojung muses.

Youngho laughs, “He wouldn’t want to. I don’t think he’d _fit_ , what with you and Sehun shouting over dinner.”

It’s heartbreaking to hear your worst fears come true.

It’s even worse when it’s from the person you hoped to be the exception.

The crate slips from his arms, and it hits the floor, vials breaking, crashing, ear-splitting.

“What was that?”

“Taeil?”

He wishes so much he could Apparate, wishes so much he could sink into the shadows.

“Taeil?” Again.

The door flies open, and he blinks at the tiny beam of light illuminating on the tip of Youngho’s wand. Soojung peers at him curiously from behind. “What the f –Taeil? Are you okay?”

“Y – Yeah,” he mutters, pulling out his wand from under his robes, pointing it at the mess on the ground. “ _Scourgify_ ,” he tries the Cleaning Spell, but it doesn’t work. Of _course_ , it doesn’t work. “ _Scourgify!_ ”

“Taeil – ”

With a flourish of her wand, “ _Scourgify_ ,” Soojung recites easily, and the vials repair themselves, sliding back into the crate perfectly. Perfect, perfect, _perfect_.

“Sorry,” Taeil ducks past them. His face is hot. Wet. Is he crying? Why was he crying? “I’ve to go.”

“Hey! Where – ”

He scurries out of the dungeon, taking the stairs two at a time to run up onto the Ground Level. Youngho’s still calling for him from behind, but he just needs to get _away_. Turning the corner, he runs up several flights of Grand Staircase, ignoring the way his robe threatens to trip him.

 _This is what happens when you have expectations!_ He scolds himself, gripping onto the handles as he heaves up the stairs. _You already_ knew _it would happen! Why did you think you could be anything but a friend?_

The students pass him in a blur, he doesn’t recognize anyone, even as they stop to stare.

It leads him to the sixth floor, and he stops when he’s positive that Youngho’s no longer behind him; he can’t hear anything with his heart in his ears.

The hallway is empty.

_I need to –_

“ _Colloshoo!”_ Youngho bellows from behind him, and Taeil’s nearly falls flat on his face.

He glares down at his shoes, gunk seeping from under it.

Youngho’s hexed his shoes to stick to the ground.

He groans, crouching to hug his knees, heaving, sweat dripping from his brows.

Taeil doesn’t even try to un-hex himself. It might backfire. He might light his shoes on fire instead.

It doesn’t register to him to just take his shoes off.

“Taeil,” his eyes are met with Youngho’s muddy boots, and he burrows his head in his arms. “Taeil, what are you doing?”

He winces at the softness in his voice. Why couldn’t Youngho just leave him alone?

“Taeil? Could you _please_ look at me?” Youngho’s hands are on his shoulders, and he smells like grass, too close, _far_ too close. “Taeil?”

“Er,” he breathes through his mouth. His nose is starting to run.

“Why did you run?” Youngho mutters a _Muffliato Charm_ under his breath. The sound of chatter is immediately muffled. “Was it the kiss? I – I thought you were okay with that… I’m sorry, did I push too hard?”

Taeil would very much appreciate it if a troll came bumbling down the empty hallway. He’d rather get trampled on than have this conversation.

“I, uh,” Youngho stammers. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to?”

Taeil doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t want anything right now, but it definitely didn’t sound like Youngho was going to leave anytime soon.

Youngho murmurs again, and Taeil feels his shoes unstick from the ground, but he can’t move. His limbs are frozen in place.

“Taeil?”

His face crumples, and Taeil hides behind his hands, shrugging Youngho off, “Stop it.”

Youngho shifts away, painfully awkward, “Sorry.”

Taeil can’t stop the waterworks. He cries miserably, quietly, with Youngho staring holes into top of his head.

“Was it something I did? Something I said? I just – ”

Taeil’s had enough, “Why did you kiss me?”

A pause.

“I – I wanted to?”

He’s going to regret it, _oh_ , he’s going to regret it,

“You shouldn’t have. I’m not,” he scrunches his eyes shut. “I’m not someone you’d want.”

Youngho doesn’t sound impressed, much less sad. More confused than anything,

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t _fit_ with your group of friends,” Taeil knows it’s a cheap shot, using Youngho’s words against him. “I don’t play Quidditch, I don’t like to go out and mess around, I don’t look like I _belong_ when I stand next to you, I don’t – ”

“What?”

It’s a reaction Taeil doesn’t expect.

He’d expected Youngho to come to his senses, leave the boy crying in the hallway, go back to his friends in the Great Hall, and forget all about Taeil.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Taeil looks up. Youngho’s sitting cross-legged across him now, propping his elbow on a knee, cheek in his hand, eyeing Taeil closely. “Only caring about how I _look_ to other people? Is that the kind of person you pegged me for?”

It takes Taeil back to their first night at the library,

“You’re supposed to date someone like – ”

Youngho sulks, “No, I’m _supposed_ to date whoever I _want_ to date.”

Taeil’s running out of things to say, how can he explain it so that Youngho would understand? They were two completely different kinds of people, running in different times, different realms.

“You don’t understand – ”

“Fine,” Youngho shrugs. “Explain it to me then.”

Taeil feels like he’s walked into a giant trap, “Well – ”

“Explain to me why my heart stutters whenever I see you steal glances at me from across the Great Hall. Explain to me why I can’t concentrate in class when you’re laughing at your desk, hiding a smile behind your hand. Explain to me why I get butterflies in my stomach when our hands brush.”

The air around them is too hot, “Youngho, you – ”

“I don’t understand, Taeil.” Youngho straightens.

“Explain to me why I can’t sleep at night because my mind’s so full of you. And even when I _do_ sleep, I dream of you.” Taeil bites the inside of his lip so hard, he tastes blood. “Explain to me why I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, even after you’re into two servings of roast beef at dinner. Explain to me why I tolerate arguing with Taeyong every day, just so that I can sit next to you, because you won’t acknowledge me anywhere else.”

It’s too much information, “I do – ”

“No, you don’t,” Youngho sighs, looking at his hands. “You don’t look at me as much as I look at you, and I _know_ this because I’ve spent the last school year blatantly staring at you. You don’t think about me as much as I think about you, because you’re always thinking about Taeyong, or Potions’, or about the other people around me. You don’t think about me. You care about how I look more than I do, you don’t – ”

“Okay, _stop_ , stop it,” Taeil clambers to stop Youngho from speaking, covering his mouth with a hand.

Youngho’s eyes are earnest, trying to read Taeil’s dumfounded expression. His hand comes up to pull Taeil’s hand away, and Taeil resists for a second, before letting go.

“Why do you care about what other people think?” Youngho bites out, anguished. “I _know_ you like me,” Taeil winces, not used to hearing the truth so forthright, “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. I see the way you smile at me, and it’s different from when you’re smiling at anyone else.”

Youngho laughs, but it doesn’t match the worry in his eyes, “Are you telling me you don’t feel something for me? That there’s nothing between us? Nothing at all?”

The tears are starting to prick at his eyes again, and Taeil takes a shaky breath, “Youngho…”

“Can’t you give us a chance?” Youngho is ardent. “If you don’t like me, I – ”

Taeil shuts his eyes, turning away, “I like you, Youngho.”

Youngho moves to lock him tighter by the hands, “What?”

“Of _course_ , I do,” Taeil groans, exasperated. He tries to pull his hands away, but Youngho has an ironclad hold on him. “Who wouldn’t like you, Youngho? You’re _perfect_ , and you’d be much better off with Soojung, or – ”

Youngho cuts him off, “Why are you talking about her? I’m talking about you and I.”

Taeil doesn’t know how else to explain himself, “Don’t you think you’d be much better off with her? Tall, and pretty, and excellent at Charms? Are you even listening – ”

“I would be listening,” Youngho interrupts, sounding equally frustrated, “if you were making _sense_ , Taeil. I’m trying to tell you that I _like_ you, why are you talking about other people? I don’t care if she’s good at Charms, if I was going to date anyone good at Charms, I’d be after Taeyong, wouldn’t I?”

Taeil tugs his hands free, “You don’t _get_ it. It’s different. You’re you, and I’m me. There’s nothing – ”

Youngho snatches Taeil’s hand back, slapping it over his heart, and the rest of Taeil’s spiel dies in his throat.

“I’m _so_ nervous right now,” Youngho says lowly. “ _You_ don’t get it.”

Taeil feels like a bucket of ice is dumped down his shirt when Youngho’s heart beats rapidly against his chest, under his palm.

“W – what?”

Youngho leans forward tentatively, and Taeil doesn’t shy away, “You have no idea how I feel, Taeil. You’re already jumping to conclusions when I haven’t got the chance to tell you how I feel.”

A chill slithers up his spine, “I’m – ”

Youngho slides even closer to him, hand clamping onto Taeil’s knee. He closes the gap between them, pressing his lips softly to Taeil’s again, and then it’s gone. He pulls away to eye Taeil keenly, as if he was trying to figure out if Taeil wanted to kiss him again.

“I’ll understand,” Youngho breathes, and Taeil’s hands start to tremble, “if you don’t want to give us a chance. But you can’t blame it on me.”

It’s shame that’s bubbling in Taeil’s gut, “I – ”

“You can’t blame me, if we stop talking after this,” Youngho kisses him again, soft. It’s foolish, the way Taeil lets himself get lost in Youngho’s lips. Taeil bunches Youngho’s cloak in his fist, trying to pacify his raging heart. Youngho seemed to take it as approval, something Taeil would gladly grant. “I can’t _just_ be friends with you, Taeil,” Youngho’s drags his lips against Taeil’s cheek, leaving a scorching trail up to his ear. “I want you.”

“Y – Youngho,” he stammers.

“Tell me. What can I do to show you how much I want you?”

Taeil could hardly care if someone rounded the corner.

Despite the words leaving his lips, it would be the world’s most obvious lie if he said he didn’t want Youngho too.

“I want you so bad, Taeil,” Youngho whispers into his ear. Taeil thinks he’s about to disintegrate into a puddle. Youngho pulls his legs apart, sliding between them, and Taeil’s hands release Youngho’s cloak to catch himself before he tips over. “I love everything about you, from the way you hate Quidditch to the way you can’t Charm pumpkin to orange,” Youngho hovers against him, and Taeil arches into Youngho’s chest, responding to his advances. “You’re telling me there’s nothing between us?”

It’s rhetorical. Youngho _knows_ , he ought to know, that Taeil liked him back, wanted him back. It’s the little voice in Taeil’s head that’s trying to tear him away from Youngho.

Doubt is a scary thing.

“N – no,” Taeil’s arm threatens to give way when Youngho runs his lips down Taeil’s neck, clearly aware of what he was doing. “I just,” he gulps, and Youngho looks up, eyes blown, lips slick with saliva. “I didn’t know if y – you ever look at me like how I look at you.”

Youngho grabs Taeil by the collar, pulling him up, “How do you look at me?”

Taeil’s dug himself a giant hole. “It – it’s embarrassing.”

“I dream of you,” Youngho says suddenly, hands trailing up Taeil’s thighs slowly. “I dream about kissing you,” he fondles with the edge of Taeil’s sweater, “I dream about taking you on trips, seeing places I’ve never seen with you. I dream about watching the World Cup with you, even though you might hate it,” he still finds it in himself to joke, “I dream about having you by my side, making sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Taeil must be dreaming. “You do?”

Youngho cups his jaw, pulling him close for a slower kiss, long and languid. “Won’t you believe me? Won’t you just forget about whatever you’re thinking, and just _listen_ to me?”

It’s the way Youngho’s pleading, with his fingers causing mutiny in him, running along the edge of his slacks. It’s the way Youngho’s voice is _gnawing_ , trying to edge its way through Taeil’s defense. It’s the way Youngho’s heart is still thundering in his chest, under Taeil’s palm.

_A ticking clock?_

It’s stupid to think of,

“Sorry,” Taeil manages to say first, and he wants to climb out of Youngho’s lap to properly apologize, but Youngho doesn’t let him go. “I really like you, but – ”

“No, no, no!” Youngho blinks rapidly. “No _‘but’s_! I don’t need any _‘but’s_. Just _‘I really like you’_ is enough for me.”

Taeil smiles despite the situation. He’s always smiling around Youngho, it’s ridiculous, “I didn’t think you’d ever like me.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for the past _hour_ , Taeil, I – ”

Taeil digs his nails into his palm, “I know, I know. It just…” he trails off, nervous.

Youngho bounces a knee, “What?”

“It sounds too good to be true.”

Youngho thumps his head into Taeil’s chest, startling him, “You’re trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”

Taeil doesn’t know if he’s allowed to run a hand through Youngho’s hair, so he keeps them by his sides, “You can’t expect me to just believe you like that, honestly, have you seen me?”

“I have, _oh_ , I have,” Youngho mutters, sounding pained. “What are you talking about?”

Taeil squirms, “I’m not… I’m not _attractive._ ”

“You _are_ trying to drive me crazy.”

“It’s the truth, I – ” Taeil chokes when Youngho’s presses his lips into his chest, like he was trying to kiss him through his sweater.

He breathes Taeil in.

It makes him shiver.

“I’ll show you,” he chuckles darkly.

Taeil stalls, “What?”

“I’ll show you,” Youngho’s hands are eager, slipping past Taeil’s robes. “How much I want you.”

“Here?” Taeil squeaks, mind spinning at the thought of what might come next.

 

The Prefects’ Bathroom is empty, as expected.

“Whoa,” Taeil murmurs looking at its grandeur, temporarily forgetting the reason _why_ they’re in there. The sound of water rushing into the large hot tub in the middle of it all is soothing almost, if it weren’t for Youngho’s hands snaking around his waist again, pulling him close.

“Don’t think anyone will be up here any time soon,” Youngho flicks his wand at the door, and it locks with a _click!_

“R – really?”

Youngho nods, forgoing words, leaning down to kiss him again.

His lips are wet and warm. Taeil’s legs are going to give out.

“I need to shower,” Youngho inhales deeply, resting his forehead on Taeil’s. His eyes are hooded, a little dark, darker than Taeil’s ever seen. Darker than he’s ever dreamed. “Join me?”

It takes his breath away, the possibility of seeing Youngho _bare_ , the idea of having Youngho under his very own hands.

Taeil’s body wasn’t anything magnificent. He wasn’t pale or thin like Taeyong, or lean and perfect like Sehun. If anything, he was still a little pudgy from the three bowls of pudding he had for dessert last night.

“I – I, uh…”

He can’t help but be nervous.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Youngho reassures, lips moving against Taeil’s jaw. There’s a slip of tongue, like he was _tasting_ Taeil. “I just,” he sighs, and a shiver rolls up Taeil’s spine. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for a long time.”

Taeil freezes. All the bumps in the Great Hall, the brushing of hands and shoulders, hips and thighs. The causal sling of the arm around his shoulders, the ruffling of his hair in the mornings, the lingering touches on his arms. Is that what Youngho meant?

“How long?” Taeil finds himself murmuring, hands tentatively tugging on Youngho’s tucked in jersey.

“Too long,” Youngho’s lips find his again, slotting them together. He pushes against Taeil hungrily, threatening to tip the boy backwards, but the hand on Taeil’s back steadies him.

It’s enough for Taeil to pull his jersey free boldly, and Youngho groans loudly into his mouth when his hands come into contact with his torso, skin on skin. The strangled moans Youngho makes emboldens Taeil to drag his shaky hands higher up under Youngho’s shirt, running them across his chest, hot and sweaty under his touch.

“Taeil, Taeil,” Youngho breaks apart to still his eager hands. For a second, Taeil thinks he’s done something wrong, pure lust clouding his judgement.

Any leftover skepticism leaves when Youngho licks his lips,

“I want to touch you too.”

Taeil blinks, stunned. And then he’s nodding, helping Youngho out of his uniform, unclasping his robe, just as Youngho does the same. They help each other out of the rest of their clothes, Youngho leading them towards the swimming pool-like tub, grinning when Taeil steps out of his boxers, face beet red.

It was never going to be admitted aloud, but Taeil’s thought of Youngho naked a few times, and then a few more times in his dreams. Taut muscles, tanned and _solid_. All of those hours dreaming couldn’t quite compare to Youngho in real life, who was all those, but _better_. It was real.

The steam isn’t enough to cover much, and Taeil’s about to shy away again, but Youngho grabs him, holding their bodies flush. The noise that leaves Taeil’s lips when their dicks brush is anything but holy.

Youngho guides him down the steps carefully, murmuring under his breath for Taeil to _be careful_. The water is a little too hot to his liking, but there really isn’t anything in the world that was going to stop him from chasing after what he’s been craving for for the past three years of his life.

“Come here,” Youngho bites on his lip, and Taeil lets himself be tugged, wading through the waist-high waters to get to Youngho. “Everything okay?”

Taeil’s brain short circuits, “Hot.”

Youngho laughs, “Thank you.”

Taeil wants to correct him, but the kiss Youngho’s pressing to his lips makes him think otherwise. He drags a tongue across Taeil’s lips, and he parts his own to let Youngho kiss him harder. It’s nothing but pure pleasure, the way Youngho licks every crevice of his mouth, a hand coming up to cradle the back of Taeil’s head, for he was constantly on the verge of tilting backwards, and falling over. Their noses brush, and Taeil can feel him breathing heavily, almost as hard as he was. He mewls when Youngho grazes his tongue over Taeil’s, and he’s a little timid, but Youngho coaxes him, moaning encouragingly when Taeil licks back. Spurred, Taeil pushes forward fervently, wanting to taste him too.

Youngho pulls away slowly, and Taeil chases, albeit embarrassingly, a string of saliva between them. The _heat_ is getting to him. He can’t think straight.

“Youngho,” he whines softly, gripping the taller boy tightly by the wrists, another kind of warmth coiling in his gut.

He wants more.

Chuckling, Youngho pulls him down as he sits on tiled underwater bench lining the edges of the tub. Taeil makes a move to sit beside Youngho, but he redirects him, moving him to straddle Youngho instead.

The air in his lungs hitch when their crotches line up, head falling onto Youngho’s shoulder, hair matted to his forehead, shuddering at the pleasure shooting up his nerves. Youngho’s lips are on his chest then, awfully close to his nipples, huffing hot breaths, teasing him.

Taeil’s hips stutter, rolling against Youngho’s underwater, and the friction is _heaven_. He gasps again when Youngho bucks upwards, hands clutching onto the ledge behind Youngho tightly.

“Youngho, I – I – ” He cries out when Youngho’s hands hold him steady, taking one of his nipples between his lips, teeth grazing, tongue licking. He starts to suck – “Oh my _god_.”

He can feel Youngho’s lips curving up to a smile, even while sucking him, tongue flicking over the bud. His hand finds Taeil’s other nipple, rubbing it between his fingers. Taeil arches into his touch, his lips, throwing his head back in ecstasy. He pants open mouthed into the air, hips undulating onto Youngho, trying to chase after his own pleasure.

Taeil chokes back a sob when Youngho’s lips and hands leave his chest, and he doesn’t dare look down, not when Youngho could be staring up at him, dark eyes, and perfect face. He nearly falls off when Youngho holds their dicks together, stroking slowly.

“Careful,” he pants, hand readjusting his hold on the small of Taeil’s back, pushing him closer. Taeil nearly folds onto Youngho, hiding his face in the crook of Youngho’s neck. He feels so _good_ against Youngho, never mind the way his chest and hips are practically glued to him. His knees are starting to hurt and his thighs are starting to feel the strain from all his shameless grinding, but he can’t stop.

 “Can you – ” Youngho exhales loudly, large hand still sliding them together. “Can you kiss me?”

Taeil obliges, and it’s a little bit of a task, to fit their lips together while bouncing on Youngho’s lap. Youngho groans into his mouth, and Taeil happily swallows them. His hand leaves the ledge, gripping Youngho’s hair and tipping him backwards to push his tongue into Youngho again. He shudders under Taeil’s touch, and it fires him up, thrusting hard into Youngho’s hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” Youngho murmurs into his lips, and it sounds like it’s been amplified a thousand times in the empty bathroom. “I don’t know how you don’t see it, I really don’t.”

Taeil kisses him harder, ears aflame.

Youngho laughs, pleased.

He whines into Youngho’s ear, and satisfaction blooms in him when he feels Youngho grow even harder under him.

“Did you,” Taeil pants loudly, hips moving a steady pace now, trying to make it last. “D – did you like that?”

Youngho’s eyes widen, like he didn’t think Taeil would ever catch it. He grunts, “I did.”

Armed with new knowledge, he continues to whimper and moan, letting it slip through his lips purposefully, panting hard, spurring Youngho on, strokes quickening, tightening. The reaction doubles, Youngho rutting hard up against Taeil, and Taeil slams forward to meet his thrusts, squealing softly, rasping hard.

He lets his eyes flutter open, just for a second, and he marvels over the way Youngho’s eyes are screwed shut, brows knitting together, completely concentrated.

Youngho’s hold on them starts to slip, and he moves his free hand off the ledge to join him underwater, holding them together. The extra pressure sends him soaring, and he takes a second off kissing Youngho to take a breather. Youngho’s eyes flit open as well, and it startles Taeil, the way Youngho’s looking at him, an overstimulation of attention and pleasure combined.

“Taeil,” Youngho heaves, looking pointedly at Taeil’s lips. “Taeil, I want you,” he gasps when Taeil runs a thumb over the slit of his dick, twisting his hand, “I want you, I – I – Believe me.”

Taeil whimpers. He never wants to think otherwise ever again.

“I believe you,” Taeil nods frantically, tugging harder.

Youngho pleads, craning for Taeil’s lips, “Kiss me, _please_.”

It wasn’t the heat in his gut or the heat from the bath that burned in his chest.

He dips down to kiss Youngho, but he doesn’t shut his eyes fully this time, neither does Youngho. So, they kiss, staring each other down with half-lidded eyes, so _intimate_ , so unlike Taeil to be able to hold his gaze, but he doesn’t want to break the spell.

His orgasm comes as a surprise, and his eyes threaten to close, but he keeps them open, unwilling to shatter the eye contact with Youngho. Taeil grips them tight, shaking through his high, and Youngho comes, breaking their kiss to tilt his head away, shouting, loud and unabashed. He sinks into Youngho, hand loosening its grip from Youngho’s hair as he starts to relax, completely out of breath.

Youngho lifts them a little, reaching for his wand under their pile of clothes. Taeil closes his eyes and breathes him in, unconcerned with whatever Youngho’s murmuring under his breath, lazily waving his wand around. He loosens his hold on their dicks, resting his hand on his thigh, and Youngho stumbles over a spell.

“What are you doing?” He manages out after catching his breath.

Youngho’s hand is still rubbing the small of his back soothingly, “Cleaning up.”

Taeil jerks his chin down to see their come slowly disappearing from the waters, and he hums, “Huh. Useful.”

Youngho laughs, and it’s a little hoarse.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Do you like it,” Taeil murmurs, and he feels his skin start to wrinkle from being in the water. “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

Youngho exhales loudly, leaving his wand aside, “Was I that obvious?”

Taeil thinks it’s pride thriving in him, “You asked me to kiss you a lot.”

Inching away, Youngho groans, “It’s only because you kept leaning away!”

Taeil looks at him in disbelief, and Youngho accedes,

“I told you I think about kissing you. More than you think.”

He can hardly contain his excitement, the idea of having Youngho under him again, personality jumping a total hundred-and-eighty, “Did you like it when I moaned too?”

“Taeil!” Youngho balks.

“Just wondering,” Taeil shrugs, looking back down into the water. He drags his hand lazily over Youngho’s torso, indulging in the way his muscles seem to tense, even at the faintest touch.

“You really _are_ going to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”

 

 

 

(“You never really thought it the other way around, did you?” Taeyong says to him when Taeil finally managed to grab hold of him two days after.

“What?” Taeil notices someone staring from the Slytherin table. The boy with the coral hair.

“That you were Youngho’s Captain Hook,” Taeyong snorts. “And he had the ticking clock in him.”

_Oh._

Taeil’s about to oppose when the familiar billow of scarlet lining and books is by his side again.

“Good morning,” Youngho dips down to kiss him sweetly on the lips, not at all caring that Taeil was midway a bowl of cereal. “No delivery from Sehun this morning either, Taeyong, sorry.”

Taeil doesn’t get to recover from the kiss fast enough to ask about it, because Youngho’s already moving on,

“Are you guys usually here over Christmas? My family’s going on a cruise, so I’m pretty much going to be here by myself,” he sighs loudly, batting his eyes at Taeil.

“Yeah, we spend Christmases in the castle,” Taeil flicks him in the shoulder, and Youngho pouts. His family wasn’t big on celebrating the joyous holiday, neither were Taeyong’s. “You won’t be _alone_.”

“Actually,” Taeyong mutters, already packing up his notes. “I won’t be here this year.”

Taeil blinks, “What?”

“Yeah, er,” He gets up from his seat. “Someone’s invited me over to their place for the holidays?”

 _A certain fifth year Slytherin?_ “Who?”

Taeyong slings his bookbag over a shoulder, “I’ll tell you some other time, I promise.”

He leaves, abandoning Youngho and Taeil to trade confused looks.

“What was that about?”

Taeil frowns, “Guess we’ll find out some other time.”)

**Author's Note:**

> heavily motivated by [this](https://1aeyong.tumblr.com/tagged/*hpau)! check it out!
> 
> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


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